


boyish

by bluu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Together, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Relationship Study, These men need help so I gave it to them, Uchiha Obito Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluu/pseuds/bluu
Summary: It’s Obito’s dream but in reverse: Kakashi as Hokage, Obito at his side. The two of them against the world. The village, beautiful. But what Kakashi is suggesting isn’t an illusion, it’s real and soft words from Kakashi’s soft mouth and Obito doesn’t know if he can accept such a thing. Whether he should.So he swallows and asks, “You trust me?"Obito survives and comes home with Kakashi: the little steps taken along the way.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito
Comments: 19
Kudos: 224





	boyish

_Maybe the body is the only question an answer can’t extinguish. How many kisses have we crushed to our lips in prayer—only to pick up the pieces?_

—Ocean Vuong

Konoha is a village of sprawling forests and winding rivers, pastel buildings peppering its paved roads. In the day time it’s full of mothers, strolling down its roads, stopping frequently to peruse the plentiful offerings of the markets: freshly caught fish down by the banks, or little stalls whipping up batches of dango and taiyaki that the children love. At night, the city comes alive, with the glow of lanterns like newly born stars lighting up a bustling strip of laughter and vibrancy.

Obito hasn’t been back in the village for nearly a decade. In passing the market stalls he can almost see ghosts of himself, child-like in the way he used to revel in the petunias at the flower shop, kicking dirt up as he dashed through the streets. Rin is running next to him, Kakashi not far behind. Minato watching the three of them, wistful, serene.

If Obito was still the boy-dreamer he was, he would think of this as homecoming, _nostos_. Like Odysseus, sailing on his journey home, the victory of a war won resting proud upon his shoulders. But Obito lost that boy long ago, and when he looks upon the gates of Konoha all he can do is mourn for the home that this place could have been for him. How far he has drifted, with no anchor to tether him to shore.

Obito watches as the vision of his childhood dissipates into morning dust, lost in the breeze. The dead don’t come back, see.

-

“By all accounts,” Tsunade says, staring at Obito, “we should have you executed for treason, along with numerous accounts of first-degree murder. Among other things, of course. We would be here all day if I spent the time to actually list out your crimes.”

Obito inhales deeply. The air of her office was stifling, anticipation hanging thick in the air. Kakashi is impossibly still seated next to him, tense.

“But we pardoned Sasuke,” she continues, leaning back into her office chair, "for his involvement for breaking the Infinite Tsukuyomi. And you, I understand, had a great part in sabotaging Otsutsuki Kaguya's destruction, though I might add that you did cause all of this ruckus."

He winced.

"You also sacrificed yourself to save Kakashi, nearly dying in the process. Who is also your next Hokage, after the paperwork goes through and the succession process has settled.” Tsunade’s gaze shifts over to Kakashi, who immediately straightens up in his chair. “An action that should be properly venerated.”

Obito closes his eyes.

Tsunade continues softly, “This village has been cruel to you, Obito. And your family. Though this does not excuse your actions, I think it would be a shame to punish you when you and your bloodline have only suffered under Konoha’s leadership.” She takes a deep breath now. “Thus, I am pardoning you of your crimes, contingent upon your compliance with house arrest and mandated therapy, to which you are allowed to leave your residence for, of course.”

Next to him, Kakashi relaxes ever-so-slightly, shoulders rolling back. Obito’s jaw drops as he stares at the Hokage, who has her arms crossed over her chest and a raised eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“It’ll be Kakashi’s decision eventually, but I strongly discourage any reinstigations of your status as a Konoha shinobi. It’ll do you some good to live as a civilian, I think.”

“Therapy?” Obito asks, incredulous. “What is talking about my problems going to do for me?”

“A lot, actually,” Tsunade retorts. Then sighing, she says, “The Uchiha clan demands trauma in order to awaken potential. Insanity to unlock might. You’ve killed a lot of people, Obito.”

Obito doesn’t say _I know._ Obito doesn’t say _it’s what I’ve become good at._ Instead he looks over at Kakashi, who doesn't do anything but look at him back, something unknown flickering in his eye. Maybe some kind of tiredness.

“I recommend Yamanaka Ino,” Tsunade says. Obito flinches on reflex. He doesn’t know much about Yamanaka Ino specifically, but he does know that the Yamanaka clan’s specialty lies within the mind arts, which usually translates to mind-reading and probing. Tsunade clearly notices Obito’s reaction, because she quickly adds, “She’s a shinobi, yes, but her psychotherapy practice strictly bans the use of any mind arts. Or any jutsu, really. I oversee the healthcare system, so I would be personally revoking her license if she breaks that oath.”

Obito can’t relax at that. Still, he leans back in his chair, exhaling deeply, and says, “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Not really, no. But do give her some credit. I’ve already let her know of your situation, and your first session is tomorrow.”

“And the house arrest?” Kakashi asks.

“He’ll be at your residence, unless you have any objections,” Tsunade says.

“What is this, _babysitting?_ ” Obito grumbles, recognizing fully well that house arrest is basically babysitting. Still, he’s thirty, and Kakashi must have his own matters to worry other than keeping an eye on him. He’s almost Hokage, whereas Obito’s a civilian now, scarred and declawed into normalcy. Mediocrity.

“That’ll be fine,” Kakashi says, voice small and soft. “Thank you. If that’s all…”

Tsunade motions with a flick of her wrist, and both Obito and Kakashi rise to their feet. They’re halfway out the door before Tsunade calls out, “Obito.”

He turns around and faces her. “Yes.”

“This is a kindness,” Tsunade says. Eyes glinting, hard, warning laced in her tone. “Do not take it for granted.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Obito murmurs. The weight of his sins press down on him like boulders, heavy.

-

Kakashi’s home is modest, sleek. Black marble counters and glass furniture, everything polished to a glimmer. The apartment is compact, but arranged for maximum space: one leather sofa, a small coffee table, a round dining table with two chairs neatly pushed in. The space feels unlived in its immaculate keep, and the only personal touches that Obito can find is a little picture frame of Kakashi’s genin team — Team 7, if he remembers correctly — on the coffee table.

“You can make yourself comfortable,” Kakashi invites casually, gesturing around. “Anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” Obito says awkwardly, taking a seat on the couch delicately.

He picks up the photo gingerly. Recognizes the poses instantly: the jounin-sensei _,_ Kakashi, hands ruffling the boys’ hair as Sasuke and Naruto sneer at each other. The girl in the front, Sakura, bright in her smile. If Obito lets his eyes blur over he can imagine the same image with the two of them as boys, Minato’s exasperated grin, a hand carding through Obito’s hair gently. Rin’s laughter.

A clink of glass on wood jolts Obito out of his reverie as Kakashi sets down his drink next to him. Obito sets the frame down and tries to smile. “Good picture.”

“Obito…” Kakashi trails. Lets his name die in the stillness.

"I don't suppose you have the one of us, huh? Brings up too many bad memories? That's fine, I don't blame you," Obito says, laughing, "I wouldn't want to look at it either. I mean, they're all dead. Except for me, and by all accounts I should be too."

"Obito," Kakashi says, harsher.

"What," he hisses. He stops then, swallows hard, squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm not wrong. I should've died a long time ago."

"Don't say that," Kakashi says quietly.

But Obito ignores him. "None of this wouldn't have happened if I had died. I wouldn't have— Minato would still be alive, you know? And my family—"

"You know your family was massacred under Danzo's orders," Kakashi interrupts. "What's done is done, Obito, and that wasn't _you—_ "

"But it was me," Obito snaps. "It was. Madness or not. Madea's forbidden curse seal or not. It was _me._ My hands."

"It wasn't," Kakashi pleads, and his voice sounds like prayer. Like kneeling, begging for mercy. "Please, Obito."

"Please what," Obito snarls.

And Kakashi looks nothing like the boy-soldier he knew him as and everything like the scared child he should have been. He's both thirty and twelve all at the same time, Kakashi's shoulders crumpling and the exhausted wrinkles tighten around his eye like cracked earth, fissures. Kakashi's fingers tremble, then, as if aching for a lifeline, and Obito feels his jaw unclench and his own fingers reach out to grab Kakashi's hand. Only for him to stop, clench his fist. Drop his hand back in his lap, and let the silence widen still, this distance between them.

"I'm sorry," Kakashi whispers, and Obito thinks, _when did Kakashi become so fragile?_

"Don't apologize," Obito mutters. Doesn't say _I'm the one who should be apologizing,_ because no apologies can ever atone for the cruelty of his mouth, or the bodies at his feet. "You don't need to apologize to me."

Kakashi joins Obito on the couch and stares at the photo. Even through the mask, Obito can see how his jaw clenches and relaxes. Clenches again. A few beats pass between them as they sit, measured apart as Obito sips on his water. Kakashi looks fucking miserable, so Obito says, "They were cute."

"Absolute menaces though," Kakashi jokes, the guilt not entirely gone from his voice. "Worse than us, actually. Rin at least kept us in line. Sakura was and is just as hot headed as them."

"Yeah?" Obito asks. Then he remembers the pink-haired kunoichi who socked Kaguya in the face. "Yeah, I see it."

"You should meet her sometime, properly," Kakashi suggests. "Naruto too. Sasuke, whenever he decides to come back."

"Did he really leave Konoha for some soul-searching?" Obito asks incredulously.

That prompts a bark of laughter out of Kakashi, who leans back and turns his gaze to the ceiling. "Teenage wanderlust, I suppose. I'm not really sure what he was thinking. I'm sure he'll be fine, though."

"He's an Uchiha. Uchiha are never just _fine._ "

Kakashi goes quiet. Then, he says, "I trust him."

And Obito stills too. Wonders what Kakashi's trust must feel like, this unshakeable faith. Wonders if he'll ever deserve such a thing. Wonder if he even wants it.

-

Yamanaka Ino is a tall woman with sleek, silvery platinum hair tied up in a thick ponytail that reaches her waist, with lithe limbs and piercing blue eyes. She's wearing a woven lavender sweater that contrasts nicely with her office, a little room full of tawny brown cushions and oakwood flooring. She's sitting across from Obito in a matching armchair, legs crossed and her hands resting on her knee.

"I understand you're here under Tsunade's orders," Ino starts, leaning forward. "So I want to lay out some basic groundwork for our sessions, since the process of therapy is gravely unknown in shinobi circles, despite how much we need it."

Obito blinks. Nods and listens, as Ino's no-frills attitude demands.

"First, I will never use any techniques on you. This should go without saying. I aim to be someone you can trust, however hard it may take us to get there." Ino shifts in her seat. "Second, these sessions are led by you. Whatever you want to talk about, we can, no matter how mundane it may be. For example, I am not going to bring up your past unless you bring it up first."

Obito exhales, a sigh of relief. He's not keen on talking about Zetsu or Madara anytime soon.

"Third, anything that you say here will remain confidential between us. The only exception to this is if you express deliberate intent of treason or harm against others or yourself. Then I will have to escalate matters to the Hokage and external medical professionals." Ino taps her fingers on her knee, lithe. "Understood?"

"Understood," Obito replies, feeling a little awkward.

"Alright. Now that out of the way, how are you feeling today?"

"Fine, I think," Obito says.

Ino hums, but otherwise says nothing.

Obito shifts uncomfortably in his seat, racking his brain to find something to talk about. "Konoha hasn't changed much. It's been a while since I was back."

Ino hums again. "How does coming back feel?"

"Strange," Obito says, laughing a little. "I mean, the last time I was here, I ended up killing my sensei and Hokage. Now it's all sunshine and shit and Kakashi's going to be the fucking Hokage."

Ino raises an eyebrow. Clearly, whatever Obito just said needs a lot of unpacking, because she raises a finger and says, "Let's start with the first part. I was under the impression that the Yondaime died sealing the Nine-Tails."

"Yeah, but I attacked him and Kushina for the Nine-Tails," Obito says bluntly. "If I wasn't there everything would've been fine. So I killed Minato and Kushina."

"I see," Ino says. "You believe that your actions caused your mentor's death, along with his wife's. Were their deaths your intention?"

"I mean, no," Obito answers, knitting his brow. "But the plan was… I mean, you know what the plan was. You were there. I needed the Nine-Tails for the Infinite Tsukuyomi."

The therapist just looks at him, waiting for more.

"Which, you know," Obito continues, laughing again, "wasn't even my plan. Apparently this entire time Madara had placed a seal on my heart to control me which only broke because I had sealed the Ten-Tails into myself. Isn't that so fucked? All these decades. Minato's death. My family's massacre. It was my body but I don't even know where I was."

"What did you see in the Infinite Tsukuyomi, Obito?" Ino asks quietly.

"It was me," Obito whispers, "as the Hokage. Kakashi at my side. The children are playing in the streets, and everyone's protecting the village together. It was sunny, and I felt proud to be alive. Rin's watching from above, and Kakashi and I worked hard every single day knowing she was up there. Carrying on her memory on her backs."

Then, "I don't think Rin would be proud of who I am right now."

Ino swallows. Obito watches as her steely resolve cracks a little as she purses her lips and says, "You were under a Forbidden Curse Seal, Obito. You managed to break it just in time. I don't know anything about Nohara Rin, but anyone would be proud to see your courage. The ability to do the right thing, even after everything. I can't speak for Kakashi, but I know he's proud of you. He fought hard to bring you back safely."

"The village," Obito mumbles. "It was so beautiful. And I didn't regret a single thing."

"I know," Ino says. "I know, Obito."

-

Expectedly, Kakashi isn’t home most of the time, which explains how perfectly well-kept the apartment is. Being on house arrest means that Obito can’t really leave the apartment with the ANBU stationed outside the door, so Obito sits by the window and watches the people walking by on the streets below. It’s all very calm and peaceful, with beats of people flowing in and out of the roads like waves, peaking at noontime for lunch.

Courtesy of Zetsu and Madara, half of his body is plant matter, so Obito doesn’t need food to survive anymore. Still though, looking down at the market stalls down below he can’t help but remember what it’s like to be seven and skipping to the ice cream cart for a popsicle on a sweltering summer day. Seeking reprieve from Konoha’s unforgiving sun, Obito would buy a treat for both Rin and himself: strawberry for her, chocolate for him. Kakashi never bought any himself, but he would hold an icy bottle of water to his forehead as the three of them sat by the wayside in the shade of the trees. A little daytime solace.

It’s close to midnight when Kakashi comes back from work one day — a long day of document filing and bureaucratic bullshit that Obito can’t fathom — and he brings back two sticks of dango, pink and white and green on a skewer. Obito doesn’t need to ask that they’re from the little shop that used to be owned by the kind old granny down two blocks east. Her daughter works the stall now, and Obito feels the guilt building up in his throat when he realizes that he never got to say goodbye to the granny before she passed.

Kakashi says lightly, “Do you still like these?”

“I don’t need to eat anymore, you know,” Obito points out, but takes a skewer anyway as it's offered. “You don’t need to waste your paycheck on me.”

“I’m not wasting it,” Kakashi says before taking a seat at the table. Obito follows suit, pulling out the chair and plopping down. He takes a rice cake between his teeth and tugs at it, feeling the powdery sugar coat the walls of his mouth like sweet snow. Kakashi continues, “It was a dollar and I figured you needed a little pick-me-up.”

Obito doesn’t respond to that, and just savors the pillowy chewiness of the dumpling in his mouth. It’s exactly how he remembered it. It takes him a few seconds to realize that Kakashi isn’t eating his dango at all — rather, he’s just looking at Obito, an unreadable expression in his visible eye.

“What?” Obito grumbles.

“I’m glad you still like it,” Kakashi murmurs. “Hana from the stand says hello, and that she wants to see you soon.”

“I’m on mandated house arrest, Kakashi,” Obito deadpans. “Indefinite house arrest.”

Kakashi says nothing, just hums quietly. “How is the therapy going?”

“Fine,” Obito says. They’ve had a couple sessions so far, and despites his best efforts to be wary of Ino, he finds that he actually likes her. She’s professional, insightful, and takes no bullshit. “It’s going well.”

“Good,” Kakashi replies, and leaves it at that.

Obito can’t handle the awkwardness that stretches between them, so he swallows a piece of rice cake and blurts, “Look, you don’t have to look at me like that all the time. Like you pity me, or something.”

“I don’t pity you,” Kakashi says, voice ever so soft.

“Then why do you look at me like—” _Like you’re afraid of breaking me over and over again, like I’m some sort of cracked doll that needs to be mended with tender hands, like I’m irreparable. “_ —like that?”

Kakashi’s face has always been hard to read under his mask, with most of his emotions being expressed through his eyes when they were young. Now, he just looks tired as his one eye flits closed slowly and he lets out a small sigh. “I don’t pity you, Obito. I guess I’m just—”

Kakashi stops. Obito stares at him, waiting. “Just what?”

“Just sad, I suppose,” Kakashi admits. Then, Kakashi reaches up and tugs down at the mask, revealing a soft mouth that’s quirked up into a small smile. It’s the first time Obito has seen Kakashi’s face ever since they’ve grown. When they were genin, Obito had sneaked a peek once in the bathroom, and was so awestruck that he proceeded to compartmentalize it and not think about it ever since. Even now, Kakashi is beautiful, with a delicate jawline and straight nose sloping to a round point. “I should take this off around you. It is my home, after all.”

Obito ignores the sight of Kakashi’s face and turns his attention back down at his skewer, the last dango green and plump on the stick. “Why the fuck are you _sad,_ ” Obito grumbles. “I’m alive. I’m here.”

“I know,” Kakashi sighs. “I just feel a little useless, that’s all.”

“Useless?” Obito repeats, surprised.

“I visited your grave every single morning, you know. Yours and Rins. Told you about everything that was going on like I was talking to you, alive, and there. Now that you’re here it’s like I don’t even know what to do anymore. I’m still getting used to it,” Kakashi offers, still smiling, “so sorry about that. I’m not even here most of the time. So everytime I come home it’s like seeing a ghost.”

“You need to stop apologizing,” Obito mutters lowly. Still, Kakashi’s admission is extremely depressing, and Obito doesn’t know what to do with a depressed Kakashi, so in a poor attempt to crack a joke he says, “Maybe you should go to therapy for that. Ino will tell you you have a massive guilt complex or something.”

Kakashi chuckles and the lines around his eye crinkle upward. “Maybe. I don’t think I could go to Ino though. Conflict of interest.”

“What do you mean? Like Hokage stuff? You’re close with her?” Obito asks.

“No,” Kakashi responds, looking downward and finally taking a small bite out of his dango gingerly. “Because of you.”

“What the fuck does that mean,” Obito says.

Kakashi just munches at his dumpling. Obito stares for a little longer, watching as Kakashi’s jaw moves up and down with the motion, waiting for some sort of explanation. Kakashi doesn’t offer one, and Obito just figures it has something to do with his fake death or something, so he too returns to his food.

“Do you want me to bring you back anything else from the markets?” Kakashi asks casually. Looks up back at Obito meaningfully, something sensitive, delicate. Obito isn’t used to this Kakashi; he’s nothing like the stern, emotionally stunted boy-genius jounin that he used to be. Two decades really made its mark on him, it seems.

“Bring me back some fucking books,” Obito grumbles, “I’m tired of trying to look for something on your bookshelf only to find your shitty porn. And say hi to Hana for me, and that I’ll buy some dango myself once I make my prison break.”

“Jiraiya was masterful in his craft,” Kakashi says earnestly, as if he’s complimenting some sort of profound classical literature instead of defending the _Icha Icha_ series.

“You are so stupid,” Obito snaps. But Kakashi’s eye just crinkles, and his lips curl up as he turns away.

-

“Kakashi took his mask down the other day,” Obito says during their fifth session. “I mean, it wasn’t the first time I’ve seen his face, but it definitely was the first time I’ve seen it in a long time.”

If Ino is one of the many kunoichi in the village enamored by the mystery of what’s behind Hatake Kakashi’s mask, she doesn’t show it, because all she says is, “That’s interesting.”

“Yeah, isn’t it? It was completely out of the blue, too. We were talking about how he’s apparently sad looking at me all the time and he just pulls his face down. Like he’s… some sort of dog, going belly-up.”

“An act of vulnerability and trust,” Ino corrects, which Obito rolls his eyes at. Semantics, really.

“Kakashi doesn’t feel like the person I knew him as,” he continues. “I mean, I guess that’s obvious. It’s been twenty years.”

“And who was the person you knew him as?” His therapist prods, prompting for more.

“More emotionally stunted. Though you probably would say I’m not one to talk.”

Ino snorts lightly, but otherwise motions Obito to continue.

“The Kakashi I knew would never just admit he’s sad. Or even look sad. The Kakashi I knew was a ruthless, stern kid who made jounin at age twelve. The years changed him, I guess.”

“They changed you too,” Ino points out. “You described yourself as a happy, boisterous child. Like Naruto was when he was younger.”

“Yeah, well, nearly dying and being revived and forcibly controlled by your dead ancestor and something inhuman will do that to you,” Obito drawls, dripping sarcasm in his voice. Still, he leans back in the lounge chair and turns his gaze skyward up to the yellow light of Ino’s office.

“My guess is that he’s afraid of losing you. You’re an important person to him, after all.”

He scoffs. “No way.”

Ino raises an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“I mean, I was such a good-for-nothing kid. I wasn’t talented or anything. I was in love with our teammate and then I nearly died for it. He probably thought, and still thinks, that I’m useless,” Obito dismisses, the memory of Kannabi Bridge still stinging like a fresh cut, splitting wound.

“You gave him your eye,” Ino says softly. “And your death changed him. I know he was frequently seen at your grave in the mornings, as he constantly made up excuses for his tardiness. Sakura told me about it frequently.”

Obito frowns. “The Kakashi I knew was never late.”

“Oh, but this Kakashi was. He would always say things like _I was helping an old granny cross the road,_ or _there was a cat on the street that needed attention._ Sakura was quite annoyed by it.”

Obito stares. Gapes. Because that’s what he used to say when he was late in the morning, whether he was actually distracted by an old woman in need on the street or whether he was just oversleeping. The boy-soldier he knew was never late to training, always scolding him for his disrespect of Minato’s time. “That’s… that’s weird.”

“Familiar, isn’t it?” Ino asks, tapping a finger on the armrests of her chair.

“It’s just hard to believe,” Obito says, shaking his head. “I don’t know why he changed so much, back then. Or why he’s like this now.”

Ino sighs, closing her eyes, as if suddenly hit with a bout of tiredness. When she opens her eyes they are kind, and sad, and Obito can’t help but feel like a little kid in front of his young kunoichi wise beyond her years. “You have to understand that people care about you, Obito. Kakashi most of all.”

“You always say that,” he says, gritting his teeth. “But there’s no one. Even when I was young, there was no one.”

“Kakashi is there,” Ino reminds him gently. “He has never left. Only you did.”

Obito gulps, then. Thinks about the image of Kakashi in the early mornings, as the sun peeks over the horizon in blossoming morning light, in front of Rin and Obito’s memorials. Talking for hours on end until his mouth goes dry and his lips are peeling under his mask. Petunias on the stone. Thinks about the way Kakashi’s eyes went wide and how the world reeled under their feet as Kakashi finally realized who was behind Tobi’s mask. As if the earth ripped under him and Kakashi was there, drowning in perpetual space, free fall. Thinks about Kakashi’s hands cradling Obito’s boyhood, his own dreams that Kakashi defended even against Obito himself that time in Kamui.

Ino’s voice cuts his train of thought. “And he offered his home for you to stay at for the foreseeable future. He lets you rest on the bed even though you don’t really need sleep.”

“Stop, I get it,” Obito sighs. “It’s just that he’s the Hokage in a few weeks. And I’m a civilian now.”

“That doesn’t invalidate his feelings. You care about who you care about. There’s little choice in that. He doesn’t care for you due to your prowess as a shinobi, however powerful. If that was the case, he wouldn’t have cared so much about you after your death at twelve.”

“Wow, thanks.”

Ino raised her hands in mock surrender. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Obito mutters. Still, he thinks about the little acts of kindness: an offering in a dango skewer, pastel blush and green, and the two new books left on the coffee table, and allows himself to have faith, even if just for a moment.

-

Kakashi’s inauguration is in an hour. At this rate, he’s going to be late.

“What are you doing, idiot,” Obito hisses at Kakashi, who has just come home from god knows what holding a plastic bag full of what looks to be cans and take-out. “Don’t you have to get ready?”

“No,” Kakashi lies blatantly, and walks over to the couch to sink down next to Obito, who’s reading one of the books Kakashi got him. It’s poetry, beautiful but confusing, full of swirling language and metaphors that Obito can’t exactly understand but manages to get the general gist of after a few rereads. “I wanted to eat. I can’t pull down my mask in peace today, the press is swarming me.”

Kakashi reaches into the plastic bag and fetches out two cans of beer, placing one down in front of Obito. He tugs his mask down, cracks the can open swiftly then takes a large swig.

“Thought you said you wanted to eat,” Obito says, amused, before opening his own beer and gulping down the cool, bitter drink. One of the few bodily pleasures he can still enjoy was alcohol; though his body does metabolize it a lot faster than the normal human being, he can still feel a buzz provided he pounds down enough liquor.

“I’m getting there,” Kakashi grumbles, taking out the disposable chopsticks and snapping them in half to make a pair. He starts digging into his rice bowl, and the smell of grilled eel wafts into the air.

Obito sips his beer before asking, “You excited?”

“No,” Kakashi says through a mouthful of rice. “There are too many people out there. It’s a damn mob.”

“Ever the Mr. Popular, aren’t you,” Obito snorts.

Still, he can’t help but feel jealous. Even from his apartment downtown he can hear all the commotion up at Central Plaza, the bustling sounds of the crowd loud and clear from half a mile away. Obito wonders what it might be like out there, with travellers all across the continent coming to see the inauguration of Konoha’s newest Hokage, the notorious Hatake Kakashi of the Sharingan. Wonders what this day might be like in another life, where he’s the one to don the wide brimmed hat and the white robes lined with red, _ROKUDAIME HOKAGE_ in bold brushstrokes along his spine. Kakashi by his side.

Kakashi must have sensed the tension, because he simply says, “Obito.”

“Yeah,” Obito grunted.

“I know Tsunade recommended for you to be a civilian,” Kakashi faltered. “That isn’t what you want though, is it?”

“I spent two decades being a notorious killing machine,” Obito says drily. Then with a sigh, he remembers Ino’s flat voice in his head telling him not to use sarcasm and abrasiveness to cover up his vulnerability. By God, the therapy is _working_ , Obito realizes in horror. “No, I don’t. I’m an Uchiha, Kakashi — we’re born and bred as shinobi, whether we like it or not.”

“I’ll have to take it up with the Council and it’ll have to be a few months into my tenure,” Kakashi offers, “but we could work something out. Not ANBU or general regular missions or anything. Government, with the occasional special mission.”

Obito stops and blinks. It’s Obito’s dream but in reverse: Kakashi as Hokage, Obito at his side. The two of them against the world. The village, beautiful. But what Kakashi is suggesting isn’t an illusion, it’s real and soft words from Kakashi’s soft mouth and Obito doesn’t know if he can accept such a thing. Whether he should. So he swallows and asks, “You trust me?” and braces himself for the answer. The earth beneath his feet threatening to break.

And Kakashi murmurs, “Of course I do,” and Obito closes his eyes, and lets himself feel the unburdening.

“I tried to kill you,” Obito says. “And you tried to kill me.”

“Sasuke and Naruto are doing just fine. In fact, Naruto wants to meet you soon. It’d be good to have you there for him. You two share the same vision for this village.”

_He never left. Only you did._

The two of them sit in silence once again. It feels like forever and a second all at once.

Obito closes his eyes and gulped, “I wish I could be there.”

Kakashi breaks the distance, reaches over for Obito’s shoulder and lets his fingers linger at the bone. Curls his hand across Obito’s muscle. It’s a quiet kind of touch. “You can be there for Naruto’s.”

“Yeah,” Obito says. “Yeah.”

-

“Kakashi’s being weird,” Obito splutters in their tenth session, feeling like a teenager.

“Go on,” Ino prompts, a lilt of amusement in her voice.

“He says he trusts me,” he says, as if that explains anything. Obito knows it doesn’t, but he doesn’t know quite what to say. Kakashi’s trust feels a bit sacred.

“He’s housed you for nearly three months now, Obito. Of course he does,” Ino says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, you don’t understand,” Obito groused. “Does it seem like the Hokage has time to buy me a six-pack and poetry books and weird little trinkets from the market? He’s the Hokage. And he wants to help me become a functioning member of society again and get me a job. And he sleeps on the couch sometimes because he doesn’t want to wake me up even though he knows fully well that I’m just sleeping because I have nothing else to do. He makes me an extra portion of eggs in the morning because I like eggs even though I don’t need to fucking eat.”

Ino stares at Obito as if he’s grown a second head, which all things considered, isn’t exactly implausible. Her voice is flat when she remarks, “How does that make you feel?”

“Look, this is going to sound really depressing, but I haven’t had normal friends in twenty years and I’m pretty sure this is not what they do. I mean, Konan was nice but like she was the only normal one out of the Akatsuki and even then I don’t think we were friends.”

“For God’s sake, Obito,” Ino sighs, professional facade breaking away to utter exasperation, “Go the fuck home and spend some time with him.”

“That’s very un-therapist-like of you,” Obito remarks, frowning.

“Go _home._ ”

-

Obito goes home, and picks up some dango on the way back. When he unlocks the door to the apartment, Kakashi is already on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table as he reads volume number whatever of _Icha Icha_ with a cup of sake nestled neatly in his fist.

“Did you have a day off or something?” Obito asks, frowning. “Stop reading that drivel.”

“Shikamaru is smart but by God he does not know how to shut the fuck up,” Kakashi grousles before taking a hefty swig of his drink. By some miracle, Kakashi closes the novel and sets it down on the table. “Snarky little brat. These kids are out of line. He can deal with the paperwork for all I care.”

“Cruel and unusual punishment, what a terrible boss,” he drawls. He takes a seat down next to Kakashi and offers him a dango skewer. “Here.”

Kakashi blinks in surprise, eye flickering from Obito’s hand back up to Obito’s face. He plucks it from Obito’s hand. “Thanks. Aren’t you supposed to be in therapy right now?”

Obito laughs nervously. “Uh, yeah. About that.”

Kakashi frowns. “What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” he blurts, quick to clear up any misconceptions about Ino’s work. Obito doesn’t know if he can consider a therapist his friend, since Ino is a paid professional whose job is to listen to his feelings and form a connection with him, but he feels protective of her nonetheless. “She just told me to go home early.”

“Why?” Kakashi asks, still suspicious, still frowning.

God. Obito turns away and stares straight ahead. “I talked about you. She told me to spend time with you.”

“Oh,” Kakashi deadpans, and it’s got the distinct tone of realization dawning upon him. “I see.”

“What,” Obito says.

“I think,” Kakashi says, “Ino is trying to give you hints about our relationship.”

“What,” Obito repeats, and then, “Oh.” He might be unsocialized and a little emotionally stunted, but even he knows what that means. “Really? God, I’m sorry. Does that make you uncomfortable? Uh—”

“For the love of God, Obito,” Kakashi sighs, “Look at me.”

Obito shifts and looks, and Kakashi swiftly places a kiss on the corner of his mouth. It’s tender, feathery in the way Kakashi’s lips press gently before he moves back a few inches. Moves in again for the left corner. Again, on his bottom lip. Again, for his whole mouth.

Kakashi doesn’t say _I love you._ Kakashi says, “It took you three months.”

And Obito doesn’t say _I love you_ , either. He says, “I got there eventually.”

Kakashi’s fingers brushing across his collarbone. Obito’s arm around his waist. It’s like the glow of lanterns over an otherwise dark road, or sunlight filtering through the trees onto shadow, warm. Outside, the streets are alive with laughter, and Obito closes eyes and thinks, _home._

_if you are softer than before they came. you have been loved._

—nayyirah waheed

**Author's Note:**

> yes we are back in naruto era  
> yes i wrote this all in 24 hours  
> yes i got 4 hours of sleep  
> no i am not okay


End file.
